Sunday, November 22, 2015

I’m going to share a
little parable about people of true faith: There was a small boat on a storm
tossed sea. The boat could safely hold 6 people and currently held 12. Those
aboard were cold, soaking wet and paralyzed with fear.On seeing an additional person in the water,
near death and struggling, 11 of those people suggested that one more person
would surely imperil the rest. Their concerns were understandable and
warranted.The 12th person was a person
of true faith.Without hesitation, he
reached into the icy water and pulled the swimmer to safety.Despite the risk, he believed his God would
either preserve him in this life or reward him in the next. Faith burns most
brightly when all other hopes are spent. SC

October
passes quietly in a flourish of pastels. Its brightest days are as special as
they are brief. Its touch is deep and long-lasting, and its passing leaves
us, as it does all of nature, grey, exposed and vulnerable. When November
comes the trees have dropped their leaves. The sun is sluggish with the cold,
and rides atop a sullen mist, just above the oak tops to the south. The
breezes, like rowdy children, toss the leaves in each others faces. The
rustling and the rattling is their laughter, and the memory of their laughter
is our joy.

SORROW SLIPS AWAY

Soft through the pines,

The summer breeze is blowing,

Sweet, solemn music to me.

Lightly through my mind,

Old memories are flowing,

Tender thoughts of what life used to
be.

Souls called away,

Golden days amid the tall grass;

Laughter lingers deep in my heart.

Pleasant moments shared,

Vibrant dreams of youth are ageless.

Hope unites though time may bid us
part.

Shadows of time,

When the hours passed in moments,

Tender moments priceless to recall;

Futures to share,

Happy destinies awaiting,

Summer slipping gently into fall.

Seasons quickly pass,

Our memories turn to treasure,

God’s gift to those who remain.

Sorrows slip away,

While our hearts preserve life’s
pleasure;

Grief fades, while life’s joy we
retain.

IMPRESSIONS

Do not lament a moment past,
A fleeting moment made to share.
Do not feel it lost in passing,
For to be past, it need be there.

And in existing, only seconds,
Its donation subtly paid,
Enriches life and heart and soul,
With vast impressions it has made.

Foolish is the heart that lives one moment,
And its passing grieves,
For in the volume of our lives,
Each page must turn to reveal new leaves.

Each second gives us priceless life;
It also gives us age.
Take care my friend, as chapters end,
Don’t stop to mourn the page.

Read on and on; each second counts;
Each chapter grows more fine,
And often as not, what we fear is lost,
Is ahead just one more line.

GRANDDAD’S TENT

We did lots of
camping when I was a kid.

We camped in
an old canvas tent.

I remember the
sound as it flapped in the wind.

I remember its
feel and its scent.

I remember the
sound of warm rain on its roof,

The comfort it
offered each night.

I recall how I
felt looking out at the stars

By the
campfires flickering light;

The feel of my
pillow at the end of the day,

When my
shoulders were pink from the sun,

My
grandmothers kiss as she tucked us in bed,

After our prayers
were done.

First thing in
the morning the fire was lit.

Great Grandma
brought granite-ware dishes.

Golden brown
hotcakes for breakfast of course,

And for supper
fried tatters and fishes.

Each day we’d
go swimming and play in the sand.

My granddad
would take us all hiking.

Sis and I
watched as he whittled a cane,

And the stick
horses more to our liking.

We’d sit by
the fire in the late afternoon.

I’d sit in my
grandmothers’ lap.

Dad would go
fishing, my momma would read,

And Granddad
enjoyed a good nap.

Later on in
the evening, when supper was done,

There was
coffee from a granite-ware pot,

Delicious
marshmallows we roasted on sticks,

And dried figs
that my great grandma brought.

I remember the
feel of hot sand on bare feet,

And melon
seeds stuck to my chin,

The stories of
camping trips long, long ago,

And the way
that my granddad would grin.

How the
decades fast have flown.

How quickly
reached, September.

How bitter
sweet the joys we’ve known.

How precious
to remember.

How bright the
wide and starry skies,

How fleeting,
lives long spent.

How like the
stars, my granddad’s eyes,

And life
ephemeral, much like Granddad's tent.

WINTER

If I were a
tree as fall creeps in,

With summer
dripping from his chin,

I think I’d
see through fall’s disguise,

And linger not
to eulogize.

For sure as
summer days grow still

And find new
ways to steal our will,

Right behind
on summer’s heels,

Fall’s
sniffing at persimmon peels.

Before the
trees can shake the spells

Of buzzing
bees and summer smells,

Fall slithers
in on morning mist,

And wipes his
chin with an icy fist.

While weasel
eyes and sharp goat’s feet,

Search cold
fall skies for things to eat,

Summer’s gone
without a trace,

And fall’s
mask slips from winter’s face.

FAITH AND LOVE

Faith alone
won’t keep us warm,

Or shelter us
from rain.

Through faith
we see beyond the storm.

We glimpse
blue skies again.

Faith doesn’t
keep the storms away.

The clouds
aren’t really gone.

Through faith
we smile anyway.

Through faith
we carry on.

Faith doesn’t
promise fairness,

Or excuse how
others live,

But faith can
bolster empathy.

Through faith
we can forgive.

Like love,
faith hopes, faith can preserve.

The Book says
God is love.

Through faith
we’re spared what we deserve.

Through faith
we rise above.

Love, like
God, is infinite,

Rejoicing in
the Truth,

Inherent in
each one of us.

We know love
from our youth.

Love dispels
all questions.

Compassion
trumps all doubt.

Love can’t
dismiss all sorrows,

But love helps
ease them out.

Some question
Faith and Deity,

Denying God
above,

Disdaining
forces they can’t see,

But
no one questions love.

I
CAN’T PRETEND TO KNOW

As I sit here at the window
And reflect on joys I’ve known,
I wonder at life’s mystery,
And marvel at the way the years have flown.

I admire the deep and drifting snow,
As March winds sweep the field.
I wonder where lost memories go,
And speculate on what this spring will yield.

I marvel at the goals I’ve reached,
And other goals abandoned through the years,
At insurmountable boundaries breached,
And simple tasks which succumb at last to tears.

I wonder at convictions lost,
And passions cooled through time.
I mourn the boldness wisdom cost,
The naive faith that once made joy sublime.

Though the sun is vanquished nightly,
Still the sun does not relent,
And I know faith burns most brightly
When all other hopes are spent.

I don’t know where tomorrow leads,
And I can’t imagine how,
But I’m thankful grace met this days needs,
And I’m grateful for the peace I feel right now.

And so I sit and watch the snow,
Cheered by a snowbird’s song,
And though I can’t pretend to know,
I suspect for now I’m right where I belong.

The
sigh of old-growth evergreensAs
evening breezes shift,Trout
feeding at the sparkling edgeOf
an ice-flows lazy drift;
The roaring of a waterfallAs
rainbow mists drift by,The
primordial cry of eaglesAnd
their circles in the sky;
All God's creatures great and smallShaking
winter's chills,While
meadows lifeless days agoErupt
in daffodils;
Each one emblematicOf
a fresh, inviting spring,Alive
with opportunitiesAnd
all the hope they bring;
And at last the call of northbound geese,Impervious
and free,Arousing
primal passions,Stirring
souls and calling me.

JOY

Happiness is transient,

Fleeting pleasure many find.

It passes like lost youth,

Or morning mists.

Joy is everlasting,

An inner peace sublime.

Joy discreetly fills our heart,

Then joy persists.

ETERNITY

Seeing no one, I reached out anyway, velvet
black silence consuming me; motionless, oppressive and uninterrupted. The only
sound, the last labored beating of my own feeble heart. And then, from beyond
the desolate void which enveloped me, a firm hand joined unexpectedly with mine.
My pulse no longer relevant, my last breath expelled, a rush of reassurance
filled my soul, a warm embrace, and eternity took me in.